


Just a bit Peculiar

by xDarkZax



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Emma and Olive have changed their powers back, M/M, enoch and jacob fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDarkZax/pseuds/xDarkZax
Summary: Jacob finds his place in the world, and the person he most wants with him.





	Just a bit Peculiar

**Author's Note:**

> A few days ago I was hit by an urge.  
> An urge I haven't felt in a long time - for the first time in over seven years I wanted to write, and this is the result of my labor.  
> I have finally finished. Written below is my version of how I imagine things could have gone if things were just slightly different.  
> What could have been, if Jacob and Enoch fell in love during his stay at the house.
> 
> This story makes more sense if you've both seen the movie AND read the book, as I make references to events particular to one or the other.  
> No beta, only me... sorry about that.  
> Now read on, and I hope you enjoy it!

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

It was a nightmare. A dim, dark nightmare. The thick darkness down in the basement made it feel more like a maze than a simple corridor. It was impossible to see which way you were facing, and thus you could easily get turned around without realising it, blissfully unaware that you kept walking the same few steps over and over again. Back and forth. Over. And. Over.

Jacob Portman sighed loudly and stared sightlessly into the darkened corridor winding out in front of him. His eyes stubbornly refused to acclimate to his surroundings, leaving him to stumble forward in the pitch-black darkness. Jacob grumbled under his breath, muttering about how he would never find the trunk if he couldn’t see it. Logically speaking, he thought, he should be able to see a bright hole in the ceiling where it had come tumbling through. But there was nothing. Maybe if he had just looked for the key instead of pushing it down the stairs he wouldn’t have had to deal with this.

Not for the first time that day he wished that he’d brought something useful with him to the house. Like a flashlight. He’d brought his phone, though it was more out of habit than actual use since there was no reception anywhere on the island. If only the phone had been something else instead – a lantern, a torch, even a regular candle would have been good.

At that an idea struck Jacob and he fished out his phone from his pocket, unlocking it swiftly. Checking over the multitude of apps that it had come preprogramed with he was very glad to see it had something helpful. In fact, it had the exact thing he needed – a torch function. He clicked on the little lightbulb icon and almost immediately a weak beam of light shone out, relieving a small part of the intense gloom. An actual flashlight would have been grand, but beggars can’t be choosers, Jacob thought, and that thin ray was better than nothing. Shadows danced over the walls.

Now, with the light from his phone glowing in his hand, Jacob tried to look around the room again. It was still too dark to see anything but the general shape of the corridor and the barest silhouettes of one or two pieces of old furniture. But further down along one wall something seemed to gleam in response.

Curiosity flaring up Jacob flashed his phone onto the floor before him and made his way over. Once he got nearer he saw that it was a wall lined fully with shelves. On them were stacks upon stacks with glass jars; some smaller and some larger, some square and some in odd shapes, some tinted and some clear. But they were all filled with some sort of liquid, and most seemed to contain gelatinous looking blobs of diverse sizes. He spared a quick thought to the kitchen upstairs as he inspected his find more closely.

There was a foul smell as he leaned close to the jars, and he realised with a sort of morbid fascination that these weren’t filled with fruits or vegetables, like the ones up in the kitchen had been, but organs.

“What the-“ he breathed softly, checking the glass containers a second time. They were filled with all things you could imagine. Brains, lungs, hearts, eyes, you name it and it was likely floating around in one of those jars. After a fleeting moment of fear, wondering if they were human organs, he dismissed the thought by trying to keep in mind that even his Grandpa wouldn’t have called this house a wonderful place if something like that was lying in wait in the basement.

Giving his head a light shake, Jacob figured that the organs were likely from sheep and cows and the sort, although he could see that some were so small that they must have belonged to mice. They were remarkably well kept, still looking new despite having been pickled several decades ago. But what could they possibly have used it all for? This was supposed to be a refuge for children, not the study of an aspiring surgeon.

Wistfully, Jacob thought about the people who might have lived in that house. If only things had been different, they might still have lived there that very day, and Jacob could have talked to them. Instead he was doomed to lurk around in a long since abandoned building, looking for any clues he could find that hadn’t yet rotted away. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. At least there might be something hidden there that could give him an idea of what it was like back then. It wasn’t as good as living, breathing people, but it would have to do.

With a last glance at the contents of the shelves Jacob turned around, remembering his goal of finding the smashed trunk. He shone his flashlight into a nearby room where he thought it could be the trunk had gone through. The room was empty. He carefully made his way to the next room and looked inside. It wasn’t there either. He almost sagged in relief when he saw the remains of the trunk in the third room, lying in the centre on the floor, planks and plaster and other debris framing in neatly. The dust it had reared up in its crash-landing had still not quite settled, giving it an otherworldly glow. With cautious steps Jacob avoided the worst of the clutter and hunched down next to the broken trunk.

The ground was littered with photos. As he looked at them each seemed stranger than the former. Jacob almost laughed when he saw the photo of the boy covered in bees. He recognised him immediately from his grandfather’s stories.

“Hugh.” He whispered. He did not wish to disturb the silence any more than he already had. It was stupid, but he felt compelled not to be too loud, lest something should hear him and make its own presence known. What, he didn’t know. But it didn’t matter.

“Millard.” He added to himself as he found another photo, like the one he had seen as a child - a set of clothes seemingly suspended in thin air. Jacob picked up photo after photo, some of which he felt like he knew, and some which were completely new to him. A girl with fire in her hands, an older lady on a stroll through the garden. A set of eyes in a darkened doorway.

Another photo, laying right in front of him, had been revealed when he shifted his stance a bit, and he picked it up. It looked straight forward enough at first glance, but at the same time Jacob had the feeling that it was probably one of the more peculiar ones. In the photo was a boy who looked to be the same age as himself. Rather handsome, Jacob found himself thinking, looking from the dark curls on the boys’ head to his equally deep, dark eyes. The curious thing about the photo was that in his hand was a tool of some sort and on the table before him lay a doll. One of its arms was replaced with what looked like a tiny war axe, and the other a meat cleaver. It looked odd, but the expression on the boys’ face told him that he certainly didn’t think anything of it. Jacob wracked his brain, trying to remember if his grandfather had ever mentioned a boy playing with dolls in any of his numerous stories, but he couldn’t come up with anything. What a shame, he thought and then looked more closely at the picture. He squinted.

“Are… are those small hearts?” Behind the doll was a tray, something he hadn’t noticed at first, and on it, just below the surface of some clear liquid where two small glossy lumps. “Or lungs?” Looking behind him, at the door to the room, he thought about the shelves he’d seen. Organs of any size. He looked back at the photo, asking himself what the boy could possibly have used them for.

‘So, all that is his? Or was?’ Jacob pondered for a moment.

He looked into the other boys’ eyes for a few more seconds before he felt his face heating up. In a quick, deliberate move he pocketed the photo. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to hold on to that particular image for a while. Telling himself that there was nothing to think of it he went back to the others before him. There were rather a lot of pictures scattered around him still, despite already holding quite a few in his hand. He moved his phone over the ones closest to him. There was one of a girl holding a chicken. The weird masked twins. There was even one of what looked like a theatre group.

Jacob was about to pick up yet another photo, of a young girl with bright locks of hair, when there came a sudden noise from upstairs. Jacob started, the photos falling from his grip, and he tried to stay still and listen after the sound. It had sounded like a footstep, but surely it was just the house settling? ‘Or finally caving in…’ he thought grimly. After another moment he could hear a second thud coming from the ceiling, and then a third. He was right. He frowned - they _were_ footsteps.

Jacob stood up slowly, photos forgotten on the ground, and made his way back to the staircase. Someone else must have arrived at the house and he wondered briefly if it were the two rapper guys who had come back to play another prank on him. He also entertained the thought that it might be his dad who had finally torn himself away from his birdwatching, and come to help him. But neither idea seemed all that likely in Jacob’s mind. Whomever it was, he should probably get away before they saw him. He didn’t fancy meeting anyone in that dilapidated old house. He ascended the steps with as little creaking as he could manage, the sound of the rain increasing the further up he got.

As he reached the landing he realised that he had not heard any more sounds for a while. It was only his own breathing which accompanied him, and he made his way through the corridor. When he stood outside the room with the open wall he suddenly heard something behind him and he froze.

“Abe? Is that you?” the question startled Jacob, and with only a quick glance back at whoever had spoken he took off running. “Wait!” the voice trailed after him. He didn’t. He didn’t know why, but the thought of meeting someone in this ruin of the past frightened him. It wasn’t rational, and a small part of his mind screamed at him to stop. The girl had hardly looked intimidating, but she had looked familiar and that was the thing that scared him – she had looked just like one of the photos. But that couldn’t be, and either way she could have answers for him, if he would just _‘stop running, you idiot!’_

Just as that thought entered his mind, he passed through the opening in the wall and promptly slipped in the mud. With a fleeting admonition to himself about having forgotten the rain, he hit his head on the ground and then everything went dark.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

As Jacob got to, slowly, slowly, the world was swaying back and forth, and he gave earnest consideration to just staying unconscious.

Groaning, he considered the possibility that everything that day had only been a dream and that he was now waking up, but before he could finish the thought he was put down on the ground. Someone had been carrying him.

Maybe he was finally going mad.

Jacob rubbed his head and struggled to sit up in the wet grass. He was surrounded, he knew, people standing all around him. He felt nervous about looking up at them. He could feel them all staring. Expectant. But he knew he couldn’t just sit there all day, his eyes on the soggy earth under his feet. So he took a deep breath. And he looked.

Jacob let out a soft gasp. There before him stood a girl only a bit older than himself, the one he knew must have been the one to carry him, although she didn’t look strong enough for it. Beside her stood what he assumed was a boy, only he couldn’t see him. Only a simple smoking jacket suspended in the air. Turning his head a bit, he saw two more girls, not much younger than him, standing by an opening in the cliff wall. He noticed that one of them were wearing dark gloves, contrasting starkly with her simple bright dress. The other was wearing a pair of heavy-looking shoes.

He recognised all four of them. He’d seen their pictures. He scrambled to stand up, feeling a bit dizzy as he did so. They were still staring at him, and he stared right back. He knew them.

Jacob looked towards what he believed was the invisible boy.

“You… you’re Millard, aren’t you?”

“The same.” Agreed a disembodied voice.

Jacob blinked.

“You’re dead.”

There was a brief silence after he’d said that, but Jacob was now confused as well as nervous, so he no longer cared.

“You’re all dead. I mean, he’s invisible, but he’s still… dead.” He looked back and forth between them all, wondering faintly what was going on. Millard snorted a quick laugh before stating, quite matter-of-factly, that none of them were dead. Jacob frowned.

“Am I dead?” he turned towards the girls by the cave opening. They gave each other a pointed look before turning back. “No” the girl with the gloves replied. Whilst slightly relieved by that, Jacob was by no means mollified. He still didn’t know how any of this was possible, or even _if_ it was possible. He had his doubts.

“You’ll understand once we’ve entered the loop.” The strong girl said and nodded to Millard, who removed his smoking jacket and started walking away from them. They all stood quietly in the light rain for a few minutes before they eventually heard his return. “All clear.” he put on his jacket again and then looked to the girls. “Emma.”

The girl with the gloves nodded and walked into the opening, disappearing inside without even the echo of her footsteps left behind. Jacob felt a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly he was being lead into the dark, dank cave by the girl with the heavy shoes.

“My name is Olive. And this,” she waved towards the girl who had carried him, “is Bronwyn. That’s Emma, and Millard you already seem to know about.” Jacob was starting to feel queasy. She smiled at him as they came to a stop in the middle of a great stone-walled chamber. “Don’t worry, Miss Peregrine sent us to fetch you. She saw you on the ferry. She will explain everything.”

As if that had been the final straw – the last drop as the dam burst - he took off, running at full speed out of the cavern and into the forest. He ran for all that he was worth towards the town and to the Priest Hole. He didn’t perceive that things were different from how they were in the morning. When he tried going to his room the patrons of the pub accused him of being a German spy, and he knew he had to get out of there, too. All too quickly for Jacob to register, everyone started screaming as the building caught on fire, and then he sat in the back of a speeding cart, hurtling away from the commotion of the bustling little fishing town and out towards the far edge of the island.

‘Well,’ Jacob thought to himself, whilst sitting, dumbfounded, in the back of that cart. ‘I might have gone completely mad, but I suppose there’s nothing for it now.’ He spared a look to his two traveling companions, Emma and Millard. They both seemed much too real, if invisible on the boys’ part, to be hallucinations. They truly exist, then, Jacob convinced himself. No way could all this be a mere psychotic episode. Emma gave him a curious look and swatted at his hand when he poked her knee. ‘They certainly feel real, at least. Maybe I’m not so crazy after all.’

When the house eventually came into view Jacob’s breath left him and he felt lightheaded. It was obviously the same house he had explored earlier that day, but it was so different. His eyes flew from the proud spires and turrets to the clean and clear face of the walls, the lush, colourful vegetation respectfully keeping its distance, remaining placidly in their assigned spots. The building looked like it had jumped right out of a fairy tale. Jacob stared. ‘Any moment now’ he thought, ‘a rabbit in a waistcoat will hop by, screaming about being late.’ His companions started snickering at his obvious astonishment, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He had stepped through the looking glass and they were all mad there.

They disembarked from the wagon and walked up the steps to the front door. Olive stood patiently waiting for them, her hands clasped behind her back. She whispered something about tea to Emma, who nodded and slipped inside, tugging at her gloves. Millard’s footsteps followed her in shortly, leaving Jacob to stand dumbly on the porch. Olive put a friendly hand on his arm.

“Miss Peregrine is waiting for you. Come with me.” The girl was just about to steer him inside when something caught her eye. She stopped and stared at Jacobs clothes. He furrowed his brows.

“What’s that? In your pocket?” She glanced curiously to Jacob’s jacket. Looking down to see what it was she could mean, Jacob saw the edges of a photograph sticking out. It was the photo of the handsome boy with the doll. His eyebrows raised slightly – he’d forgotten about it in the ensuing commotion. He picked it up and showed it to Olive, who grew visibly surprised as she looked from the photo to Jacob. “What-“ she began, but Jacob interrupted.

“I found it. In the house.” He tried to elaborate. “When it was ruined. Or… when it will be ruined?” Jacob shook his head before he could make a mess of his explanation. “There were all these photographs and I tried to get a better look when I heard you all upstairs.”

Olive smiled disbelievingly at him. “And you just picked up a photo of Enoch?”

“Yes, I…” Jacob was about to defend himself when he realised what she had said. Enoch. What a neat name. “That’s his name? Enoch? Do you know him? Does he live here too?” Jacob committed the name to memory, pairing it up with the image of the boys’ face. At the barrage of questions tumbling from his mouth Olive just laughed and stuffed the photo back into Jacob’s pocket.

“I’ll introduce you later.”

Then she took his arm and lead him into the house.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Olive moved confidently through the house, Jacob trailing after her. The heavy thuds of her shoes echoed in the hallway. Jacob kept looking around him, trying to take in every detail of the place at once. In the back of his mind he recognised the frames on the walls, and the little tables dressed in lace and decorated with flower vases or some stray toy. But it was a different thing all together to see it now. Where before everything had been broken and covered in dust and grime, now it was all clean and polished. The style was old, but the objects themselves looked almost new. It was rather bizarre. Weakly, in the background, Jacob could hear screams and laughter. Jacob figured that most children were probably playing outside, in the warm sunshine.

“In here.” Olive nodded. “Come on.” Jacob hurried to catch up and the two of them entered through a door. It led into the kitchen, and inside Emma was just pouring up some tea. The teapot glowed orange around her naked hands but she didn’t seem to take notice, far to focused on not spilling any of the boiling liquid onto the table. She set the pot back down on the stove and brushed her hair from her face. Placing a cup next to Jacob she informed him that Miss Peregrine would join him shortly. Then she left.

Jacob looked cautiously at the steaming liquid and was just about to sit down in the nearest chair when he heard a shuffle behind him, and Olive suddenly exclaimed.

“Let me help you with those Enoch!” The name surprised Jacob and he quickly turned around to face the boy in the doorway. Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. He looked just like in the photo. Dark hair smoothed back as well as it could be, framing his handsome face, dark eyes filled with ennui. A pair of glass jars were wedged precariously under his chin. His half-lidded eyes seemed to linger on Jacob for a moment before the addressed Olive.

“Don’t bother. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your little tea party.” The accent struck Jacob as rather fitting of the boy, and he immediately wished to introduce himself. But before he could Enoch had turned around. Thanks to the jars he never saw the little girl with golden curls and proceeded to almost fall over her as she was running through the house. In a split-second Jacob was by his side, steadying him and catching a stray jar before it could shatter on the floor. He sighed in relief and peered through the glass. ‘That was a close call. We could have had a heart sliding under the cupboards…’

Looking away from the slightly murky contents of the jar, Jacob found Enoch staring at him, an intensely calculating look to his eyes. He felt heat creeping up his neck, and he stared back. “Uhm...”

Olive came rushing over to make sure Enoch was ok, and with a beautiful smile at Jacob she took the jar and started leading Enoch away and further into the house. He heard her tell the boy that she would have stern words with “Claire” about running indoors before they disappeared around a corner. Jacob just stood there. He could have sworn that the boy had thrown him a last look over his shoulder as they passed from his sight.

Jacob stood looking after them for a while until he remembered the tea, and thought he’d better sit down. As he turned around he abruptly stood face to face with a very well-dressed woman. He took a step back in surprise, a hand flying up to his heart as he regarded her. She was the only adult he’d seen, and she was wearing all black, with a pipe hanging from her lips. A pair of knitting needles were placed on the table by her side. Something about her commanded authority and Jacob knew instantly who she was.

“Right on time.” Miss Peregrine hummed appreciatively. “Delighted to meet you.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Jacob no longer thought he was crazy. This was real. He was officially, completely convinced.

He and Miss Peregrine talked for long after their tea had grown cold. Jacob told her about Abe, and she in turn taught him the basics of the loop. There was much to be said on both fronts. Too much for one afternoon to contain.

Jacob got through most of what he needed to say but was surprised when they promptly heard a muffled sob and retreating footsteps. Miss Peregrine wistfully informed him that Emma and Abe had been sweethearts, saying that had probably been her, before trying to steer the conversation back onto a happier topic.

She told him that birds are time travellers, which made him smile, and showed him a photo album as she talked of old friends and breezed over the intricacies of temporal mechanics.

Jacob couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, but Miss Peregrine laughed and assured him that it wasn’t too important at the present. He insisted that he wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. Miss Peregrine promised that he would learn more, but that now wasn’t the time. Jacob was about to dispute that when Miss Peregrine rose from her chair and motioned for him to follow.

“I think that’s rather enough of a lesson for today. It will be time for supper soon, and I’m certain that you want to meet the others before that.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Jacob spent the time set between their talk and suppertime outside, where Miss Peregrine had told him most of her wards were likely to be located.

Miss Peregrine enlisted Millard to help introduce their guest to the other children, since Jacob had already met him, and he agreed readily. In the back of his mind Jacob wondered if he hadn’t said yes in order to suck up to the Bird, but he turned out to be surprisingly good company, so he didn’t want to complain. They stepped out into the bright sunlight.

Their first stop was the side garden, where they found a young boy and girl sitting in the well-kept grass, talking companionably. They stopped when they saw the newcomer approach and were glad to introduce themselves, chatting amicably about nothing at all. Hugh and Fiona were excited to talk to someone new for the first time in who knows how long and told him to come see them any time he wished. He was more than welcome.

Half-way to the back of the house someone coughed lightly to gain their attention, and they turned to see a dapper-looking young boy sitting in the shade of a tree, a book resting in his lap. He rose with a flourish, giving his name, and shook Jacob’s hand firmly before looking with distain to his clothes. He complimented the fabric of his shirt, but that appeared to be its only redeemable feature in his opinion. He promptly offered his services as the house’s best, and according to Millard only, stylist. When Millard started laughing Horace huffed and sent them on their way.

They finally reached the back of the house, which was a sprawling maze of topiary animals and fruit trees. Here and there wooden benches nestled up close to shrubs and trees, and a shallow brook bubbled away into the far end of the yard. Bronwyn waved at them from the backdoor.

The leaves of a nearby topiary dinosaur rustled loudly. Jacob looked over and found two identically masked faces staring back at him. For a moment he thought he’d have a heart attack, but it passed, and the kids ran up to Millard and pointed animatedly up at the dinosaurs’ head. There, trapped in its giant maw, a lonely football lay. Somehow it had gotten stuck there as they played, and now they needed help to get it down. Millard obtained Jacob’s assistance and together they managed to get the ball down, much to the delight of the twins, who instantly clung onto their legs in a hug before running off. The ball flew wildly between them.

The golden-haired girl Jacob had seen running past the kitchen came barrelling up to him and Millard, grabbing Millard’s hand and sending a curious look Jacob’s way. Claire didn’t seem to know whether to be more shy or curious about the new boy, and so tried her best to be both at the same time. Jacob smiled at her. She grinned back.

As Millard spoke a few words with the young girl, Jacob looked back at the magnificent house, eyes roaming hungrily over the balconies and windows. ‘It really is an incredible building’ he marvelled. His eyes slowly moved down the spires and turrets, over the slanting roof and along the climbing ivy and ambitious rosebushes, down to the ornate windows facing their way. ‘I can see how grandpa might have liked it here.’

Something moved in one of the lower windows and Jacob’s eyes snapped onto a dark shape stepping away, hiding behind a curtain. A moment later the curtain was drawn back again, revealing Olive, looking vaguely bewildered. Her eyes met Jacob’s. She started waiving, and Jacob waved back, but almost instantly someone pulled the curtains closed in front of the girl, cutting off Jacob’s vision. He lowered his hand.

Next to him, Claire shrieked with glee as Millard hoisted her high up in the air and spun around in circles. Her golden locks bounced, and she giggled as he kissed her cheek. The sight was so strange that it made Jacob laugh.

After all - it’s not every day that you get to see a small girl get tossed around by an invisible force.

But then Millard seemed to look towards the house, and he put Claire down on the ground. When Jacob glanced over he saw Emma walking towards them. Claire ran up to her. Grabbing her hand Emma called out for the boys to come along. Her eyes were red, but dry. “Supper is starting.” And with that they all went inside.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

“Do you mind if I ask how old you all are?” All the talk about the loop and repeated days had gotten Jacob curious beyond belief. Everyone around him looked so young, but he already knew they weren’t quite what they seemed.

“I’m nearly eighty-seven.” Millard quipped from his right. Jacob’s eyebrows retreated to his hairline. Olive enthusiastically leaned forth over the table. “Seventy-five and a half in two weeks!”

“I’m one hundred seventeen or one hundred eighteen.” Enoch stated simply. “I lived in another loop before this one.”

Jacob almost choked on his chicken. He didn’t know what he had expected, but that wasn’t it. But before he could do more than manage a simple glance in Enoch’s direction all the other kids were excitedly regaling him with their own ages. “Eighty-three!” One shouted. “One hundred and two!” Laughed another. And then they all stared expectantly at him. He swallowed nervously.

As he told them his own age most of them seemed surprised. It had been a long time since they had meet someone so young, they said, and Jacob almost laughed at that.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Once supper was over Miss Peregrine reminded everyone that they would only have about an hour or so before their “beautiful display” was due. The younger kids sighed at the unnecessary reminder, but everyone nodded their understanding. Eventually everyone had filtered out of the dining room, and Jacob was about to follow suit when a small hand touched his shoulder. He looked back and saw the mirthful eyes of Olive looking up at him.

“I think it’s time you met Enoch now!” she declared unceremoniously. Jacob was nervous about the prospect of finally meeting the boy in the photo properly, but he wanted to, very much. Now would be the perfect time to learn about his peculiar, too. Before evening, when he’d have to leave. Olive walked over to the door.

“Don’t worry if he seems a little bit… short, in his talking. It’s nothing personal.” His throat felt dry, so he just nodded, and Olive took charge and led the way down to the basement. Walking down the polished boards she didn’t stop until she reached the wall of jars. There was a door, one Jacob had missed when he was last down there, and Olive knocked once. Her eyes glinted mischievously at Jacob. Then she walked in. Jacob took a steadying breath and followed.

“Well, you must feel pretty out of place.” Jacob stopped in his tracks just inside the door. Enoch was sitting hunched over a desk, not even sparing his guests a look. For a moment he wondered if the boy was maybe angry with him, but Olive had said that wasn’t the case. And he hadn’t actually sounded all that hostile, either. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” He replied. Enoch glanced up at him quickly before turning back to the desk. “I wasn’t worried.”

Enoch sat still for a moment before he reached a hand up and Olive instantly handed him a pair of tongs. Jacob stepped forward a few paces and watched with interest as the boy used the tool to pick up a tiny brain from a glass jar and crammed it up in the head of a doll.

“What are you doing?”

Without answering Enoch dropped the tongs onto the table and gave the doll a tap with his finger, and to Jacob’s shock the previously inanimate object suddenly twitched and came to life before his eyes, scrambling to stand up. His jaw dropped in amazement as Enoch tapped a second doll, and it jumped up next to its brother. Enoch regarded him silently for a moment.

“Jake, this isn’t even the fun part.” Jacob tore his eyes away from the dolls and met Enoch’s. “Do you want to see the fun part?” He swallowed, giving a minute nod of his head; and then the show started.

Enoch leaned in and whispered something to one of the puppets and at once the small figures aggressively turned to face each other. Claws snapped jerkily after their opponent, and knives cut through the air. The arachnid toy got its hand caught by the baby doll, and it ripped off with the sound of breaking strings. For a fleeting moment Jacob thought about likening this miniature standoff with the spider scene from Toy Story, but when the baby dolls’ chest got impaled by the knife and the arachnid happily paraded around with the heart on display, he changed his mind. That was just a children’s movie. This was the real deal. And so much cooler.

“Wow.” He breathed as Enoch tapped the puppet and it fell into a tangle of limbs. Olive clapped her hands animatedly. Enoch made quick work of putting the tools away, and then he sat back in his chair.

“This is your power? You can give life to things?”

“Yes.” He looked up at Jacob. “I can take the life of one thing and give it to another.” His expression was unreadable. After what seemed like an eternity the boy frowned.

“You’re not…” he trailed off, leaving his thought unfinished.

“Not what?”

Enoch shrugged. “Afraid? Disgusted?” Jacob laughed at that.

“Are you kidding me?” he shook his head. It might have seemed slightly intimidating at first glance, but Jacob seriously thought it might turn out to be his favourite power. “That was amazing!” Olive grinned behind Enoch. Enoch himself looked somewhat surprised. Apparently he hadn’t expected that reaction. Jacob pointed to the immobile dolls on the table. ”Can you tell them to do anything?”

Enoch leaned back in his chair, a proud smile tugging at his lips. His eyes gleamed. “Anything I want them to. You should see what I can do when I put my heart into it.”

Jacob sat down in a chair and listened with rapt attention as Enoch told him about the many things his peculiarity enabled him to do.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

When evening had almost passed by, and the outside had grown dark and clouded, Miss Peregrine went around the house and gathered everyone. The children all seemed very excited and Jacob wondered why. Olive sounded thrilled when she told him that it was time for ‘the reset’ and begged him to stay and watch it. “It’s really quite spectacular!” she assured him. Jacob still didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway.

Leading them all out into the rain, Miss Peregrine asked Bronwyn to bring the gramophone. Bronwyn was already carrying it.

They came to a halt in the middle of the lawn, rain cascading down onto them from vicious looking black and orange clouds. A rumble like thunder filled the air as the children scattered out onto the wet grass, standing like chess pieces on an unmarked board. Occasionally Jacob would feel a muffled blast reverberate in his chest. It settled like a second heartbeat, and he flinched every time. The children didn’t seem like they minded.

Miss Peregrine directed them to put on their gasmasks and get ready for their ‘beautiful display’ as she started up the record-player.

Violent splashes of colour reflected in their masks as the children began to sing along to the music.

 

 _Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run_ _!_

 _Don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun_ _!_

 _He'll get by without his rabbit pie_ _,_

 _So run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run_ _!_

 

The roar of plane engines passed over their heads, mixing with the children’s singing and distant blasts shaking the ground. Some of the children turned to look at Jacob, eyes flashing brightly behind the masks, as if to share their excitement with him. His eyes were glued to the sky.

A loud whistle drowned out all other noise and Jacob stared in abject horror as a small grey object sizzled through the clouds and came hurtling towards them.

‘The bomb.’ He thought faintly.

 

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

_Goes the farmer's gun._

_Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run,_ _run,_ _run_ _!_

 

In his panic Jacob would have fallen over and landed roughly on the wet grass if Enoch hadn’t steadied him. Olive grasped his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

Just as the bomb was about to touch down Miss Peregrine pressed a button on her clock, and everything froze. Raindrops hung uselessly in the air and the bomb hovered menacingly only a few metres away from them.

Jacob watched in awe as Miss Peregrine made time move backwards, turning the day back to a time when they were all perfectly safe. His eyes widened as the grey lump of explosives reversed its course and rose high into the air, vanishing without a trace and taking the planes with it. The clouds dispersed, and the sun flared, peeking over the horizon. It climbed the sky rapidly and retreated down beneath the waves of the sea before anyone had time to shield their eyes. Stars, like fireflies, blinked to life in the inky field above them. The moon gleamed bright as silver.

With that the show was over, and the children removed their gasmasks, grinning at each other.

“Beautiful, wasn’t it?” Olive smiled and took Jacob’s mask from his numb fingers. As soon as the shock had settled, and Jacob could breathe normally again he supposed he could agree – it was sort of pretty, albeit in a rather morbid way. He took a moment to calm his nerves.

Miss Peregrine smiled kindly. “Perhaps you better retire for the night.” She told him, and he agreed. He’d had as much fun as he could handle for one day. She clapped a motherly hand on his arm and turned to the group to get him a guide back. Enoch and Olive were gathering all the masks, and Bronwyn was carrying the gramophone back inside. The Birds eyes locked onto Emma.

 “Emma dear, why don’t you lead Jacob back? It’s dark, and I’m sure he could use some light!”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Emma walked quietly in front of Jacob, not even sparing him a glance. A small fire was resting on her palm.

Things were getting awkward as they trudged between the trees and out over the bog. He didn’t know how to lighten the mood, so he simply followed her in silence. He wished she’d say something, anything, to break this weird atmosphere between them. He got his wish, after a fashion, once they finally reached the Cairn. They stopped just outside the entrance, and Jacob was about to say goodbye.

“I’m sorry.” She said hurriedly.

Jacob looked at her, puzzled. “About what?” The flame in her hand glowed blue.

“About Abe.” She looked away, and Jacob blinked. Emma stared morosely at the grass by her feet. “You look so much like him.”

“Yeah, I get that sometimes.” He answered, not sure where this was going. Then, remembering what Miss Peregrine had told him about Emma and Abe, he felt compelled to add, somewhat meekly: “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Emma gave a wet laugh. “Isn’t it I who should be saying that to you?”

“Maybe,” Jacob agreed, “but you’ve lost him too.” He regretted saying anything when the flame in Emma’s hand dimmed. He heard her sniffle, a wet, ragged breath in the silence. “Yes, I have” She breathed. Then she cleared her throat and the flame sparked to life again. She sent him a shaky smile. “We better get going…” They passed through the loop and out into the grey, dull present. At once Jacob’s phone beeped to life, and he insisted that he take a photo of Emma, if she would let him. When asked why he simply said he wanted proof. She smiled and posed for a quick photo before turning back to the Cairn.

“Don’t be a stranger!” she shouted over her shoulder and disappeared.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

The next morning Jacob was glad that he’d taken the picture. It was undisputable proof that he had indeed been to another time and met the people his grandfather had known all those years ago.

He smiled. They were still there, at the house, and he would meet them again today. Jacob fished out Enoch’s photo from his pocket and sat just looking at it for a moment. His smile grew wider. He’d meet Enoch again.

He leaped from the bed and was out the door before he could say ‘peculiar’.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Jacob cautiously stepped into the room in the basement, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

“Back so soon, eh?” drawled a voice from within. Enoch’s eyes darted up to meet Jacob’s before returning to the page of his book, continuing to read despite his guest. Jacob scanned the cover. The title was hidden from view and he found himself unduly curious about what the other boy appeared to be enjoying reading so.

“Guess I couldn’t keep myself away.” He quipped. Enoch hummed noncommittally and flipped the page. Jacob shuffled from one foot to the other. He wished the half-lidded boy would pay attention to him, and he cleared his throat. Enoch looked back up.

“You’re not working on any… what are they called, homunculi, today?”

Enoch’s lips twitched with amusement. “Quite right.” He then marked the page he was on and closed the book, putting it to the side. “I had intended to get some reading done, but I suppose that’s not to be.” He considered Jacob, his eager audience, for a moment, fingers laced together.

“Well then, Jake,” he declared, “why don’t you make yourself useful and pass me a set of lungs.”

Jacob obediently turned to search the shelves. “Second shelf, fourth jar from the left will do just fine.” Enoch supplied behind him, and Jacob reached for it at once. He offered it to Enoch, wondering what he was thinking of doing with it. The teen accepted it and started digging under the table.

As Enoch brought forth and set to work on finishing one of his more complete projects Jacob sat down on the opposite side of the table. With the other boy momentarily distracted, he took the opportunity to look at the now forgotten book. The title surprised him.

“You read poetry.”

“Occasionally.” Enoch tied up a thread and cut it off.

“Any good?” Jacob asked, not knowing what else to say.

Enoch sent him a devilish grin. “Why don’t you read it and find out for yourself?” He tapped the homunculus’ chest and it started quivering, rising from the table like Dracula from his coffin. Enoch’s eyes blazed when they met Jacob’s. A flash of teeth. “Let’s see what we can make it do.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Jacob spent the following days hanging out as much as he could with the various residents of the Home. They were all delighted to talk to their guest, and always told him to come back to spend more time with them. Every time he accepted. They cheered.

Whenever they could, the children would ask him to tell them things about the future. He indulged them, talking about anything he could think of.

He tried to remember things he’d heard in Mrs Johnston’s class – so he told them about the Moon Landing, the Berlin Wall, acceptance and discrimination and anything else they wanted to know. He even got to mention the current political state at one point. Horace asked him about future fashion.

Mostly he got questions about flying cars and his own phone. The technology seemed to interest them most.

The children didn’t like everything they heard but they knew that at least Jacob would tell them both good _and_ bad things, as opposed to Miss Peregrine, who would only mention the terrible things in the hopes that her wards wouldn’t try to leave – leaving had dire consequences if you had stayed in the loop for too long.

Once Miss Peregrine found out she made them stop.

So instead he spent some time in the library with Millard, flipping through books he would never have considered himself. He even looked through the poetry book Enoch had suggested he check out.

Horace tried to wrangle him into clothes that he thought were more fashionable than the dull garbs Jacob was currently wearing. He would eventually give up, but for the longest time he would insist that Jacob at least tried the waistcoat, as “it’ll save the entire outfit.”

Claire and the twins managed to get him to play tag with them and squealed in delight every time they avoided his slow reach.

Once he even tended to the garden with Hugh and Fiona. He ended up not being much help, but they had very pleasant conversations none-the-less.

But the one he hung out with most was Enoch. It thrilled him that the dead-raiser didn’t seem to mind his intrusions into his privacy. He rather seemed to enjoy having such an enthusiastic audience. Every day he would have something he wanted to show Jacob, and Jacob would witness many a battles and re-enactments in the dim lighting of the basement room. Every now and then Jacob would ask if they could dance, or run and fetch things, and Enoch would tell the homunculi to do just that. The two boys would make them do all manner of things, and it pleased them how versatile Enoch’s peculiarity turned out to be.

“Ah, Jake. Perfect timing.” Enoch smirked when Jacob walked right into his room one day, without even bothering to knock.

“Oh?”

Enoch was wiping his hands on a towel, standing proudly in the middle of the room. The table had been moved to the side and in its usual place Jacob could see a big shape, hidden under a dirty sheet. He started to move closer, but Enoch gestured for him to wait. Grabbing something from the table Enoch ducked beneath the fabric, emerging after what appeared to be only a second.

He stood up and directed a smug look at Jacob. “Allow me to introduce you to my latest creation.” He grabbed the sheet with one hand and yanked hard. Jacob stared open jawed as the sheet fell away to reveal a huge, vaguely humanoid marionette without its strings. Enoch gave it a tap.

It instantly straightened to its full height, falling just short of Enoch’s hips. Enoch gave it a few directions and the puppet started moving. Jacob’s eyes were glued to it as it went to the side of the room and started pulling at the table. The floorboards creaked and groaned as the heavy table stuttered forward, inch by inch. “Enoch, this is incredible.” Jacob grinned. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Enoch scratched the back of his neck, a flush painting his cheeks a pale pink. “It took a few more organs to pull off than I would’ve liked, but I suppose it was worth it.” Jacob only grinned wider.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

When Jacob next returned to the loop he felt agitated. After the ordeal with the dead sheep his father had tried to insist that the spend the day watching birds with him instead of traipsing around in a broken, old building all alone. They argued for a while before his father got into a snit and declared that Jacob could do whatever he damn well pleased, never mind his “little issue”. Jacob hadn’t stayed long after that.

He wanted to talk to Miss Peregrine, get things out of his head, and maybe learn a bit more about this strange new world he found himself in. But Miss Peregrine was nowhere to be found, so in a huff he sat down with Olive and Bronwyn. The girls regaled him with a few stories about how life was like in the loop on a regular basis. Some of the stories were rather mundane and he only listened with half an ear, but a few of them caught his interest in earnest.

It concerned him slightly to learn that they occasionally would raid the village, but the girls assured him that people rarely got to harm, and that they needed the practice that it presented to their powers. Jacob nodded, supposing he could understand their reasoning, but still not sure he liked the idea.

He was about to ask what else they might do, when a shadow fell on him. He looked up and was glad to see that it was Enoch. The boy nodded, muttering something about the Bird needing Bronwyn’s help. The girl stood up, and with a small wave to her companions she entered the house.

“Hi Enoch.” Olive smiled as the boy sat down on the porch step next to Jacob. “Good timing, help me cheer Jake up!”

Jacob’s eyebrows shot up behind his hair. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Olive, but it appeared that she was more observant than he had given her credit for.

“Something bothering you?” Enoch questioned, and Jacob sighed. He might as well tell them. His brows knitted together. After all, they seemed willing to listen. So, he told them about his return home the night before. Enoch’s eyes flashed brightly at the mention of the sheep. Jacob raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think I could get hold on some of those organs?” Despite the calm of his voice, his eyes brimmed with optimism. Jacob’s lips twitched. To Enoch this whole grisly affair came across as more of an opportunity than a problem.

“I doubt it.” He thought back to the way the farmers had acted. “They’re all probably keeping very close watch right now. It’d be impossible to do anything without them knowing.”

Enoch sagged momentarily. “Shame.” He sighed. “I could use some fresh supplies.”

Olive chipped in with some ideas of how to go about distracting the farmers, all of which Enoch dismissed, but their bickering helped lighten the mood a little and soon enough Jacob joined in, adding his own thoughts to the discussion. “Olive’s right, they wouldn’t miss one after this” he would say, and “Enoch, no. That’s just reckless.”

The rest of the day passed in pretty much the same way, with Miss Peregrine nowhere in sight. It was first at supper that she finally showed her face. But before Jacob could get her attention she declared that they should all go to the lounge and spend the evening watching Horace’s dreams. He was apparently eager to show their guest his peculiarity and most children agreed without too much of a fuss.

Cups of hot chocolate was passed between them all as they sat down in the plush cushions on the sofas. Jake sat wedged between Olive and Hugh, and a few bees buzzed happily around his face.

As soon as Horace started his projections though, Jacob forgot all his grievances and watched on in wonder.

“This is incredible…” A beam of light tore through the dim room, hitting the back wall in a firework or colours. Most of what they were shown was really rather boring, just Horace trying on a multitude of different jackets and slacks or searching for the perfect hat to go with his outfit. But interspersed with his mundane dreams were images of all of them, running around and playing games or talking animatedly with each other. Now and then Jacob saw himself, his projection laughing with Emma and Millard, or hunched over a table, working on something with Enoch. One of the images made Jacob gulp. The others might not have noticed but Jacob had clearly seen the way his projection had blushed and ducked its head as Enoch had mouthed something in his direction. They were standing outside, and Jacob had his phone in his hand. Jacob wasn’t a fool. He could tell that his image was nervous and guessed me might know why. Him and Enoch were standing rather close. His face felt hot.

Jacob chanced a glance over at Enoch, who was stuck between the two twins, both clinging heavily to his arms. Enoch was looking intently at the dreams on the wall, but when he felt Jacob’s stare he turned to meet his eyes. He couldn’t tell what Enoch thought about what he’d seen, or if he’d even understood Jacob’s reaction. ‘Oh, what I wouldn’t give to read minds right now’ Jacob thought sadly before everyone in the room gasped. Before he knew what was going on he heard Olive’s quiet exclamation of “another ymbryne!” and looked back to the wall as the shape of a small bird cradled in a pair of hands flickered and faded out of existence.

Miss Peregrine clapped loudly to gain their attention. Everyone trained their eyes on her and she tried to make light of the situation.

“It appears we are going to have another guest soon. But right now, I think it’s time for us all to tuck ourselves in and get some rest.” Her gaze settled on Jacob. “Best you go home for today I believe. It’s getting dark.”

The children all said goodbye and Jacob stood up, walking to the door. His hand was on the handle when someone walked up behind him. Holding onto a kerosene lantern in one hand Enoch sauntered up beside him and raised an eyebrow. His half-lidded eyes gazed into Jacob’s. “Can’t have you walking alone and falling over in a ditch, now can we?” He simply shrugged at the unspoken question. Jacob’s heart sped up, but he tried to ignore it and opened the door, letting them both out into the night.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the trees casting long shadows around them. It hit Jacob about halfway through that he should ask Enoch to pass through the loop with him. That way he could get a photo of him, just like he did with Emma that first night.

“It’ll only take a minute!” Jacob insisted when Enoch looked at him doubtfully. “I got one of Emma when she walked me back, so I know it works. You just have to follow me for a moment.”

At the mention of Emma Enoch’s eyebrows drew close together. He huffed and nodded decisively. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

Jacob was surprised by Enoch’s change of mind but didn’t dare to question it. He was just glad he would get a photo of him.

One that hadn’t been lying around in an old trunk for the past seventy odd years.

When they arrived at the opening of the loop Enoch was the first to enter, leaving no room for ambiguity. Jacob smiled to himself and followed close after.

The second his phone lit up he told Enoch to stand next to him and angled his phone to capture them both. The flash went off, lighting up the rocks behind them like lightning. Enoch tilted his head to get a better look at the screen. He studied their faces for a moment before looking pleased. “We should probably get you to pose for a photograph, too. It’d only be fair.” He had muttered it so offhandedly that Jacob almost didn’t react, but he could feel his cheeks warming up and he quickly ducked his head.

“Jake?” Enoch sounded puzzled before the lantern shifted in his hand. Jacob peered up through his eyelashes.

Enoch nudged Jacob and pointed to the ground before them. There, in the tall grass, there lay a small bird with a twisted wing, wheezing and trying to worm its way towards them. Jacob frowned. Birds don’t usually try to get closer to people when they’re hurt. But then he saw the markings on its feathers and he recognised it. “It’s the one from Horace’s dream…”

Enoch’s eyes snapped between Jacob and the bird. Jacob moved to pick it up and the bird practically collapsed onto his palms. He looked at Enoch uncertainly. He wasn’t sure what to do. How do you care for wounded ymbryne?

“Give it here.” Enoch sighed. He held on to it as best he could with only one hand, the lantern swaying in the other. “I’ll take her back to the Bird.” He walked over to the Cairn, gave Jacob one last look over his shoulder, and vanished. Jacob turned towards the town and started off.

Lying in bed that night Jacob gazed happily at the photo of himself and Enoch. He hoped he’d be able to take more of them in the future.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

In the morning Jacob was anxious to speak with Miss Peregrine. He never got the chance the day before and things outside the loop were threatening to get worse. He’d been reading a letter he’d snatched from the house, where his grandfather told the Bird to warn a Miss Avocet about a man named Barron. It worried him.

Walking up the path to the house he ran into Hugh, who was sitting and relaxing in the warm sunlight. He got directed to the kitchen with a vague wave of his hand, and Jacob hurried up. As he entered the room Miss Peregrine looked up at him and smiled.

“Oh Jacob, you’re back. How wonderful.” In her arms were cradled the bird from the night before. Jacob pointed at it.

“How’s it doing?”

“She. And much better than yesterday, thank you, but I’m afraid it will still be a few days before she’s entirely well.” She sighed. Then she smiled again and nodded to the ymbryne in introduction. “Jacob, meet Miss Avocet.”

Jacob drew forth the letter. “Her loop’s in Blackpool Tower, England, right?”

Miss Peregrine’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “That was a private letter, Jacob. It’s not polite to read other people’s mail.” But Jacob was not to be intimidated so easily.

“Who’s Barron?” he barrelled forth. Miss Peregrine turned away, gently putting the ymbryne on the table. “I need to know. If my grandpa was involved with dangerous people-“

“Are you implying Barron had something to do with Abe’s death?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Jacob challenged.

Miss Peregrine got a calculating look to her eyes and looked at him hard before she ripped the letter from his hands. “Unless absolutely essential I don’t discuss unpleasant matters. It is my duty, as an ymbryne, to protect children.” With that she shooed him out of the room and closed the door.

“I’m not a child!” Jacob shouted through it. “He wanted you to tell me everything!” But no answer came from within. He banged his fist against the wall. Then he sighed.

Miss Peregrine obviously did not want to talk to him right now and he doubted very much whether he could force her for information. He pushed himself away from the wall, walking dejectedly out the front door and sat down in the shade of a tree. There he took a few breaths to calm himself down.

The air was sweet, birds sang, and critters made soothing noises in the trees and bushes. Jacob lay there listening to the wind moving through the leaves and felt himself relax, bit by bit. He closed his eyes. For a while his worries faded, paling in the bright summer sun and flying away on the wind, as light as a feather. It was as though the loop had a narcotic effect on him, cradling his spirits gently and offering a tranquil sensation. Soon enough he lost track of how long he’d been lying there, and he was well on his way to falling asleep when he felt something nudge his foot. He opened his eyes, but there was no one there.

Jacob wondered if maybe it was Millard, naked, who had woken him up, but as he sat up he saw that something had tangled itself in his shoelaces. Upon closer inspection he realised it was a tiny puppet. It was struggling fiercely to get loose, and he reached over to help untie it. Sitting in his palm the homunculus brandished a small, folded up note. It urged him to take it. Then it fell limp in his hand.

Jacob frowned at the note. He knew it must be from Enoch, but what could he possibly want to say that he couldn’t tell him in person? He unfolded the paper.

 

It read;

_Heard your conversation with Miss P._

_Might be able to help._

_Won’t be pleasant._

 

And scribbled hastily under that was:

_P.S. Don’t be too obvious._

 

Stuffing both the puppet and the note inside his pocket, he glanced covertly around before he rose and languidly walked towards the house. He made his way through the corridor and down the stairs unseen. Almost everyone was outside, so it wasn’t too difficult. As he thought he might, Jacob found Enoch in his room in the basement. He looked like he was in deep thought. Jacob had to clear his throat for Enoch to notice him, and when he looked up there were dark circles ringing his eyes, the evidence of a sleepless night. An empty jar sat forgotten on the table before him. Jacob cautiously dropped the puppet next to it.

“Okay. You said you could help?” Enoch looked him straight in the eye.

“I can’t tell you. We’re not allowed to, and I might get into a lot of trouble.”

Jacob sighed tiredly and pinched his nose. Had he changed his mind in the few minutes it had taken Jacob to get to the basement? He didn’t want to believe that, so he promptly dismissed the thought. Enoch struck him as the type of person who would make up his mind and then stick to it. So, he waited.

Enoch glanced briefly at the closed door. Then he turned towards the other boy.

“…I have a loophole.”

Any other day Jacob would have found that amusing. But Enoch had sounded resigned as he said it, so instead he just looked at the boy before him with expectant eyes. Enoch ran a tired hand through his dark hair.

“Like I wrote, you likely won’t enjoy it. In fact,” he gave the table a light kick. “It might scare you away from our _perfect_ little island.” Enoch practically spat out the word, voice think with his accent. Jacob could tell he was in a foul mood. ‘Join the club’ he thought glumly and took a breath. ‘Okay.’

“It won’t.” Enoch glared at him from the corner of his eyes, but his tense shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.” He tried for a reassuring smile. Enoch looked at him long and hard, the silence stretching out before them, before sighing deeply.

“Alright.” He muttered. “Time you met my friend Victor.”

Victor. Jacob remembered him from his grandfather’s stories, but it now occurred to him that he hadn’t seen him around. Neither at meals nor in the garden. Enoch crossed his arms and looked out the window. “We’re going to the last door on the second floor. The key is on top of the door-frame. Come on.” Jacob nodded, and they were on their way.

Hurrying up the stairs whilst trying not to raise any suspicion was tricky, but the two boys managed well enough. As they reached the door Enoch swiped the key, unlocked the door and slipped in, quiet as a shadow. Jacob followed him immediately and the door shut without a sound.

Once inside Jacob looked around. Initially it seemed like any other bedroom in the house, but Enoch’s determined movements drew his attention to the centre of the room. There, lying serenely on the huge, fluffy bed, was a young boy. Jacob stopped dead in his tracks. Although there were no marks visible on the boy as far as he could tell, he knew what was going on. Victor wasn’t sleeping. He was dead.

“Here Jake.” Enoch motioned for him to come closer. He glanced up quickly. “You probably won’t like this.” Jacob was inclined to agree. But he still did as he was told and stepped right up to the side of the bed.

Enoch took a moment to just look at Jacob, and Jacob swallowed hard. He had a feeling he knew what Enoch would do, but he still felt unprepared for it. His heart hammered in his chest, but he couldn’t back down. Not now. He needed answers. Nodding, mostly to himself, Enoch reached a hand under the covers and tapped Victor on the chest. As though sprung from a tight coil the boy sat ramrod straight in the bed, a jerky motion twisting him around to face Jacob. His youthful face looked oddly twisted. Jacob took a step back out of shock, despite having anticipated something like this. His eyes went from Victor, to Enoch, and back again. Then Victor opened his mouth.

“Hello Jake, I’m Victor! Do you want to know what killed me?”

Jacob took a shuddering breath and was about to speak when the door flew open and they all turned around to see who had caught them. As a small mercy, they noticed that it was not Miss Peregrine herself, out to hang them from their toes in the basement. But the girl in the doorway looked at the scene with disapproving eyes. Her gloves squeaked against the doorknob.

“It is time for our walk.” Emma informed them shortly, before turning to walk out. She seemed to hesitate though, for she turned slightly to face them again, just as Victor lay back down. Jacob was standing stock still, torn between frustration at having fallen so short of an actual answer, and relief because he didn’t know whether he wanted to find out this way.

“Jake?” Emma spoke softly, and Jacob nodded. But he still didn’t move. It was first when he felt the presence of another next to him that he finally snapped out of the fog he was in. Enoch hovered just out of reach, hand twitching in Jacob’s direction. His deep, brown eyes looked towards, but not quite at, him. He looked like he was expecting something bad at any moment. ‘You won’t like it’ rang in his head. Jacob sighed. At least he’d tried to tell him something, if in a rather unorthodox manner. Touching his hand to Enoch’s elbow he began steering him out of the room.

“Still here.” He whispered as Emma closed and locked the door behind them, and he could see a faint blush creep up on Enoch’s cheeks.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Miss Peregrine stood waiting just beyond the porch, the other children waiting impatiently in line. After asking everybody if they were ready, they set out to take a short route round their side of Cairnholm.

Jacob walked quietly, side by side with Enoch. Their shoulders kept brushing as they walked along, both feeling like they needed that sporadic touch. ‘Still here’, it whispered in the breeze. ‘Still here.’

Emma and Millard, who had been walking a bit in front of them, slowed their pace and fell into step with the two boys. The rest of the group trudged on, blissfully unaware. The four of them created their own, separate little bubble away from the others and Millard made a show of looking back and forth, his hat swaying in mid-air, before he spoke in a hushed tone.

“Emma told me she found you in Victor’s room. Rather risky going in there, don’t you think? What would the Bird have done if she’d been the one to find you?”

Emma snorted. Her stance on the subject seemed to have shifted. “Probably woulda gave them a proper scolding, like you’re doing now!”

Millard huffed, but continued. “Really, there are better ways to find information.”

Jacob frowned at Millard’s cap, hissing between gritted teeth. He was rapidly growing tired of all these secrets. “Well, why don’t you tell me, then, instead of questioning my methods?”

Millard was quiet. Emma toyed nervously with the edge of her gloves. Jacob felt Enoch’s hand brush his, quickly, before it was gone again. Enoch pretended nothing had happened. They shuffled along in silence for a minute or two, Jacob angrily kicking at wayward stones in his path, until Millard spoke again.

“We can’t tell you here and now. Not with the bird watching over us like a hawk.” Jacob was about to argue when Enoch whispered in his ear, “Jake, can you sneak out tonight? We’ll meet you out by the loop entrance. Should be able to talk undisturbed there.”

It was settled, and they tried to carry out the rest of the afternoon looking as innocent as they possibly could. They split up after supper and Jacob said goodbye and walked back to his own time, hoping his father would fall asleep soon so he could go back undetected.

It was several hours before he eventually made it back to the Cairn and found his friends waiting. In fact, it had turned so late that the sun threatened to rise again shortly. Just in case, Jacob had left his father a note, saying that he’d gone for a walk. He apologised to his friends for being late, but the teens assured him that they’d just gotten there too. The flame in Emma’s hand was barely necessary in the encroaching dawn, and they all sat down in a tight circle on the cold grass. The light breeze whistled softly around them.

Jacob’s noticed Enoch’s thigh brushing against his, and he glanced at the boy next to him. Enoch was red in the face but otherwise acted as though there was nothing wrong. Which, in Jacob’s mind, there wasn’t. There really wasn’t – not this, anyway. He swallowed and subtly pressed his leg closer against the other boy’s. A smile seemed to tug at the corner of Enoch’s lips and Jacob could feel an answering one on his own face.

Millard cleared his throat.

“Emma, may I…?” His cap bobbed in her direction, and she nodded reluctantly. The flame in her hand grew bright and orange. With a flourish Millard produced an old box from behind a small stone and untied the string that held it closed. The box looked to contain mostly old letters, but he stuck his hand inside and produced a few photos instead.

“This,” he indicated for Jacob to take the picture, “is something Abe entrusted to Emma, for safekeeping.”

Jacob looked at it and froze. He’d seen that man before. Enoch leaned over him and checked the photo as well.

“His name’s Barron.” Emma emphasized, pointing to the man in the picture. Jacob’s head snapped up. “He’s the leader.”

Jacob floundered. “The leader of what?” He looked back to the photos. “Who are these people?”

“Bad Peculiars.” Millard muttered. “They raid loops, grabbing all the Peculiars they can find. Whole homes of children trapped and left for dead.”

Emma looked mournfully at the flames licking her fingers. “Abe dedicated his life to hunting them.” Jacob’s eyes bulged. For a moment his jaw worked without making a sound. Then he spluttered.

“But grandpa was normal.” Jacob looked confusedly from one to the other. “Miss Peregrine told me he was just like me.”

“Well,” Millard shrugged. “She was right about that. Only, not in the way you think.” Emma gave him a pointed look. Jacob’s skin was crawling. She stared him straight in the eye and whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

“You belong here.”

Jacob stared. “Here.” He repeated. “How could you possibly think that? I’m not like you.” He pointed to himself, as if it would prove anything. “I’m the most average person you’ll ever meet.” Next to him Enoch gave a surprised laugh. He turned to him.

“I doubt that very much.” Dark eyes met his own, and his pulse sped up at the implication.

Millard sighed. “Jake, we’re not supposed to tell you this, but ordinary folk can’t enter loops.” Jacob’s heart raced.

“You’re peculiar. Just like us.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Jacob had a tough time wrapping his mind around that concept. For a moment he just stared at the people in front of him, certain that at any moment one of them would burst out laughing. But no one did. In the background, the sun was slowly peeking up from the horizon. The faint light illuminated the scenery around them.

“No, you’re mistaken.” He shook his head disbelievingly. His insides were in turmoil. “If I could do something spectacular, like you guys, don’t you think I’d have realised it by now?”

“Well…” Emma started, but Jacob interrupted.

“No, I would have. And what is it precisely that you think I can do, anyway?”

The three of them looked at each other uncertainly. “We don’t know, exactly.” Enoch said, “the Bird wouldn’t tell us. But she definitely knows.”

Jacob clenched his fists. “I’m going to talk to her, right now.” He stood up before the others had time to say anything. “I’m going to demand some answers, and I won’t leave her alone until she gives them to me.”

Millard rushed to block his way and Enoch grabbed his arm.

“No! You can’t!” Emma urged. Jacob felt like he was going to explode, and he opened his mouth to contend when Millard looked at his wrist-watch.

“It’ll happen soon.” He turned to better look at Jacob, and continued. “Come on, we’ve got something to show you.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

The four of them moved swiftly to their destination, the grass muffling their hurried steps. They made it to the edge of their lot before they sprang behind a tall, overgrown brick-wall.

Emma tugged her gloves on securely before taking a running start, latching onto the wall as best as she could, and started climbing to the top. Millard and Enoch followed suit and Jacob looked at them, trying to control his breathing. He wasn’t optimistic about climbing on the best of days, and definitely not when he was out of breath. He looked uncertainly at the vines twisting up the brick-work. He was considering how best to place his feet when a hand dangled in front of his eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he looked up at Enoch, and he gratefully accepted the help. Grabbing his hand Jacob hoisted himself up to the top. Once he could see the other side he reluctantly let go of Enoch’s hand, but instead placed his own next to it, fingers brushing. Then he tried to act like nothing. Emma nudged his side with her elbow.

“It’s about to start. Look.”

The four teens looked out over the wall and onto the vast green field before them. For a moment nothing appeared to be happening, but then Miss Peregrine briskly strode into view. In her arms a crossbow dangled loosely, and she halted in the middle of a patch of fine grass. From their distance Jacob could tell that she kept looking at something in her hand, but it was difficult to see what. Millard tapped his watch so he would understand.

The Bird was waiting for something, but what that might be eluded Jacob.

Until he saw movement by the cliff.

The sight of its ugly face of rotten flesh and sallow skin rearing over the cliffside filled Jacob with dread. It was just like he’d seen it back in Florida. Heart in his throat, he was about to shout at Miss Peregrine to look out when the others stopped him. He needn’t have worried, it turned out. Miss Peregrine had taken care of that same Hollow countless times, and with a quick aim of the crossbow, a bolt was fired right into its skull, felling the beast right then and there. Before it had even fallen completely to the ground, she had turned away from the scene and started on her way back for breakfast.

Jacob’s eyes moved wildly between his companions once they had all climbed down to the ground again, and they, in turn, all looked at him. He didn’t know what to say, where to start. His eyes fell on Enoch.

“You can see them, can’t you?” Jacob nodded. “No one else can.”

“Abe could.” Emma sniffed haughtily.

Millard removed his hat and held it in his hands. “They’re invisible. Sort of like me.”

“Don’t compare yourself to them.” Enoch’s accent turned thicker. “You are nothing like those buggers.” Millard hit him lightly with his cap and huffed a laugh. “See the difference, do you?” he joked.

Jacob sank down on the ground, mulling this latest piece of information over. Invisible monsters which only he and his late grandfather could see. Miss Peregrine knew about this but had never said a word. He balled up his fist. He had a right to know, damnit! How would she keep something as important as that from him? A hand brushed his knee, and he frowned.

Emma’s eyes were sympathetic. “Abe could see the monsters. It was his greatest gift.” She smiled. “We knew there was something peculiar about you, and we mean that as the highest compliment.” Enoch stepped up close to Jacob, his legs pressing against his arm.

Suddenly Miss Peregrine stood before them. A great puff of pipe smoke filled the air.

“Ah, Jacob. I see you’ve found my errant wards.” She gave them a pointed look. “Now, what might you be doing here this early? Is there something I can help you with?”

He levelled her with a glare. “You can start by telling me when you were going to let me know that I’m Peculiar.” The smile vanished from her face.

The Bird shot his three companions a disapproving glare before she sighed. She waved them with her, starting back to the house. “I suppose I might as well tell you. But let’s not do it here. The study will suit us better for this conversation.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

When they were alone, Miss Peregrine told Jacob that Abe had intended to tell him the truth once he turned 18, and that all he had wanted to do was to give him an ordinary childhood. The only thing Jacob could do was laugh, say that “yeah, I definitely had that” and wait for her to continue. He supposed he could understand where his grandfather had come from, but he had started to appreciate his ordinary life less and less.

She laid out the entire history of Mr Barron and the Hollowgasts before him. Showing him pictures and puffing her pipe thoughtfully, she described how a splinter faction had emerged throughout their people; disaffected Peculiars who wished to gain immortality without the restraining need for loops, the same days repeating over and over.

“They thought that they could turn themselves into living Gods by harnessing the powers of a captive ymbryne. It never occurred to them to consider what might happen to the poor woman in their experiments, as long as they made progress - so long as they found a way to make themselves grow younger again.” She sneered. “They failed, of course.”

Jacob let himself imagine it like a scene from some old black and white film, with a huge machine in the middle of the floor starting to beep alarmingly before filling the room with noxious, dirty vapour. The people attached to it would shriek and convulse as they were essentially electrocuted. There would be nothing left of the boor bird, except for a few feathers at the bottom of the cage. He felt a chill down his spine.

“Instead of achieving their greatest dream they created their own worst nightmare. They had turned themselves into hollows.” Miss Peregrine sighed. “We don’t know exactly how it all happened. One theory is that they turned back in time too far, to a time before their souls had yet to be conceived. Ghastly, dangerous creatures, hollows are, ever seeking for that which they lost.” She looked at Jacob through the wispy mist from her pipe. “That’s why they seek out Peculiars. They want our souls. So they try to take them from us by force.”

The image of his granddad’s mauled body flashed into Jacob’s mind and he felt sick.

Miss Peregrine told him about how they eventually realised that by consuming enough Peculiars they would revert into an almost entirely human state. These Wights, she told him, are almost indistinguishable from normal people, and they work tirelessly to find loops where their hollow friends can gorge themselves in an attempt to turn back. Jacob listened in increasing horror to the stories told to him. Gruesome tales. And he no longer had the luxury of believing them to be false.

“These hollows…” Jacob shuddered. “Do they only feed on Peculiars or will they eat normal people, too? Only, they found some slaughtered sheep the other day…”

This declaration seemed to alarm Miss Peregrine greatly, but before she could say anything Bronwyn broke into the room, out of breath.

“Miss! Come quick, please, Miss Avocet’s awake!”

Within the span of a second Miss Peregrine had leaped out of her seat, grabbed a bottle of brandy from on top of a tall shelf, and rushed out the door with Bronwyn in hot pursuit. Jacob hurried after them.

Everyone was gathered around the ymbryne, listening closely to her frantic weeping. The twins huddled closely together in Hugh’s lap and Enoch was carrying a worried-looking Claire in his arms. He sent Jacob a concerned look. Jacob walked over and stood next to them, and silently asked what was going on, using only a glance and a nod in the woman’s direction. Enoch shrugged one shoulder and adjusted his hold on Claire.

Miss Peregrine gave the other ymbryne a sip of the brandy to calm her frayed nerves and talked to her in a soothing voice. By and by, Miss Avocet relaxed. And then, in the most sorrowful tone, she began to tell them some of her misfortunes. The children listened in awed horror until the Bird shooed them out of the room, letting them all know, in no uncertain terms, that for the foreseeable future, precautionary measures would be taken. Then the door shut in their faces.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Things were looking just as grim inside the loop as outside it.

It was like martial-law had been declared at the house, and Miss Peregrine wouldn’t let anyone leave the building for even a minute without her express permission, and then only if they went in pairs. The only, reluctant, exception was Jacob, and she only agreed to it because he insisted his father would flip if he was just gone. But as a compromise Jacob would be interrogated every time he arrived so that the Bird could learn what was going on outside the loop. Had anything new happened? Was anything bad going on, had there been any new arrivals, and so forth. For as long as he would travel between his time and theirs he was determined to tell her anything he knew. He felt it was his duty.

After only two days of their effective house arrest the various residents of the Home felt like they were going mad. They would stare morosely out the windows, onto the gently swaying grass and the harmless blue sky. They all desperately needed some distraction from the monotony of their prison, but no one knew what or how. Some of the children grew antsy, twitching and fiddly, whilst others fell into unfathomable lethargy and would just lie still for hours.

Olive had taken to walking around in the ceiling, claiming that she’d misplaced her shoes and when even that proved too dull she’d drop rice onto anyone dumb or unlucky enough to walk beneath her.

No one had seen Bronwyn or the twins for hours and nobody felt inclined the check up on them.

The only sign you’d get that Millard had entered a room were the loud, dramatic sighs that would erupt without warning, startling everyone on more than one occasion.

Hugh was forced to sit by the window and watch as his bees were banished, buzzing around on the other side of the glass as punishment for stinging everyone in his foul mood. Emma had taken to burning anything she could get her hands on without having to leave her spot on the floor. Claire kept chewing on the legs of chairs and tables.

Enoch’s room looked like someone had dropped a bomb in there, a veritable war-zone of severed limbs and used-up organs scattered across the floor. No one would go in there.

At one point, as he left the Bird’s study after his customary interrogation, Jacob could have sworn that he heard Horace and Fiona have a lively argument about something that they didn’t even care about. He shook his head and was about to go up to one of the many balconies when he heard a thud, followed by a scraping noise behind him. It repeated a few times and curiosity got the better of him. Jacob turned and walked over to the descending stairs. What he saw intrigued him.

Dragging a large trunk behind him Enoch glanced furtively around to see whether anyone had noticed his secret undertakings. As his eyes fell on Jacob he froze for a split second, before he gave a relieved sigh and pulled at the trunk handle.

“Jake, excellent. Give me a hand with this.”

Jacob moved to comply, but despite Enoch’s hushing he couldn’t help but ask what he was doing.

“I’m moving some of my supplies to one of the sheds, by the outskirts of the Home.” He indicated that Jacob lift the back of the case. “You never know when you might need it.” Jacob nodded. He understood Enoch’s wish to know that he would have access to a small supply, no matter where he might find himself. His power depended upon him having organs to use and he would be loath to find himself without them. Jacob lifted his end of the trunk.

He groaned. “How can a few hearts be so heavy?”

“It’s not the organs that weigh so much, it’s the formaldehyde. Now stuff it, or the Bird might hear us!”

They moved as quietly as they could whilst heaving the hefty trunk between them, hoping no one would see them meandering through the hall and towards the backdoor. Miss Peregrine had only taken to locking the doors and windows after supper, so Enoch had no problem nudging it open.

It took them a few minutes to carry the trunk to the edge of the Bird’s lands, and they gratefully stuffed it into the small shack, hiding it under a table and some tattered blankets.

Before anyone could notice them missing, they made it back to the house, closed the door, and disappeared into the basement. The shelves by Enoch’s room looked strangely vacant, almost half of the customary jars missing. They pretended not to know anything about it.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

“Miss Peregrine!” Jacob rushed through the corridors. “Miss Peregrine!”

There came rustling from one of the rooms ahead, and he sprinted over and was relieved to find the caretaker sitting and knitting in an armchair. She looked worried, with her brows close together, and head surrounded by thick smoke, her pipe dangling from her lips. Her fingers never stopped, refusing to be idle, but her eyes briefly flew to him as he entered.

“Someone on the island’s been murdered.”

The bird paused, her eyes snapping to Jacob’s. “Murdered.” She repeated.

Jacob nodded vigorously. In quick fashion he told her the details, the blood draining from her face as he spoke. “It has to be a hollow.” He ended. “Just like the sheep. They’ve found the island, Miss. You’re not safe here anymore.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Miss Peregrine had immediately told everyone to go to their rooms and await further instructions, before she had disappeared into her study to discuss their options with Miss Avocet. Jacob had been outright forbidden to leave and he was left with no option but to go sulking around the house.

Emma had cried in outrage at his predicament, and the twins hugged his legs, but he left the room again before too long. Jacob wandered the empty halls, looking at the paintings and framed images on the wall; most of them portraying previous wards and some ymbryne friends of the Bird’s, mingled with scenes of tranquil groves and serene brooks and drawings of birds and flowers. All which he’d seen before.

Nothing really caught his interest. But he knew something who would. Or rather, someone.

Jacob swiftly made his way down into the basement and beelined for the door at the other end. It stood slightly ajar, so he just slipped in, closing it tight with one hand. His breath caught in his throat.

Enoch was lying on the bed in the corner, dark eyes closed peacefully. The open book on his chest heaved gently with every breath he took. Jacob figured he must have been very tired to fall asleep with the book like that and had just decided to leave him alone when Enoch awoke with a start. The book fell to the floor. His eyes locked onto Jacob. At the sight of the other boy he seemed to relax again, and he sank back onto the bed.

“Jake.” Enoch groaned, rubbing at tired eyelids.

Jacob sat down in one of the chairs. He smiled sheepishly and scratched his neck. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Enoch eased himself into a sitting position, his legs swinging over the edge. Rubbing his face, he picked the book up from the floor and smoothed the pages out, before putting it next to him on the covers. When he turned to look at him, Jacob blurted.

“I’m not allowed to leave.”

Enoch blinked dumbly at him until Jacob had told him of the newest developments. He still looked tired, but he was much more aware now, as Jacob described the dead mans circumstances and his theories. He listened with rapt attention until the other boy finished by telling him that the ymbrynes had locked themselves in the study.

“Well,” Enoch drawled, accent transforming the sounds fetchingly, “that don’t sound so good.” Jacob only shook his head. “You’re stuck here, then.”

“Yeah. Oh man, my dad will be furious.” They hadn’t exactly parted under the best of circumstances; upon seeing the dead man Jacob had told his father that he wished to be alone, to which his father had passionately objected. Alone time was the last thing he needed. Soon enough his father was shouting about his supposedly frail mental stability and threatening to never again give him a moments peace. Jacob had screamed at him to let him lead his own life, that he’s fine, but that had made him angrier, and things had only escalated from there. Jacob took off towards the loop, his father yelling after him. “He’ll think I snapped and walked off a cliff or something. Or ran into the murderer.” Jacob slumped in his seat.

Enoch sat down at the table and fiddled with a tool in his hands. An abandoned homunculus lay half-finished in a mess of tangled limbs. He looked at it intently, as if sizing it up, when he eventually spoke.

“Suppose you didn’t go back. Wouldn’t be much of a problem what he thought then, would it?”

Jacob huffed. That wasn’t exactly convincing, and he did feel bad for his father. A smidge. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to stay. He just wasn’t sure how to leave his old, if boring, life behind, and what he could possibly contribute with in the loop. But he did consider it. Every day. “I don’t know.”

“I see. So, you’ll leave then.” Enoch pointedly did not look at Jacob, instead pulling the doll towards him and picking determinedly at its limbs. Jacob’s heart did a summersault, breath hitching.

Enoch had sounded disappointed. Jacob regarded him carefully. Did that mean that Enoch wanted him to stay? Thinking back on all their previous interactions he knew that the boy had enjoyed his company, but there was a difference between appreciating a temporary visit and wishing for something to remain within your grasp.

He felt a surge of mutinous hope bubble up inside him and he prayed that he wasn’t reading too much into it.

“Perhaps not.” He found himself saying, looking at the other boy from the corner of his eye. Enoch stilled and regarded him curiously. “…do you think I should stay?”

There was a faint tinge of pink to Enoch’s cheeks, and he frowned down at the doll. With a finishing touch it sprang to life and he directed it to run around the room. He stared resolutely at the table as the doll took a jumping start onto Jacob and climbed down his trouser leg. He actively avoided looking anywhere near Jacob, who, in contrast, was looking at nothing but Enoch. The tool in his hand moved masterly, if uselessly, between his fingers.

“Doesn’t much matter to me.” He tried for off-handed. His cheeks were still glowing faintly. “Besides it’s not my place to say.”

“Maybe it could be.” Jacob smiled, before getting the nauseous feeling that he’d given too much away. In a rush, his eyes snapped to the homunculus running a marathon around them, jumping and avoiding every obstacle in its path, and he blushed brightly, feeling even his ears heat up. He could feel Enoch’s eyes on him, burning holes into the side of his skull. He swallowed.

“Jake, I-“ But before Enoch could continue heavy footsteps reached the room and the door flung open. In the doorway stood Olive, her hair wild and her face red.

“Pack your bags.” She wheezed. “Bird’s orders. We’re leaving.”

Jacob barely had time to think as Enoch charged up from his chair and threw an old trunk onto the bed. He just followed his example and started raiding the shelves and drawers for anything he believed might be necessary. With a few quick directions from the other boy, and the retreating sound of Olive’s heavy footsteps fading in the background, Jacob did the only thing he could. He packed.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Right as Jacob helped put a few more jars into Enoch’s trunk, shirts and trousers thrown in haphazardly to cushion the glass, they were suddenly interrupted.

Without warning, there came a chilling scream from upstairs, an abrupt commotion followed by equally damning, eerie silence, and it made the blood freeze in their veins. They looked at each other, knowing this could never be a good sign. The two boys took off, pelting out the room and down the corridor, almost knocking themselves over in their hurry to reach the others. They rushed up the stairs to take their place among the gathered children, but the sight that met them at the landing made them stop dead in their tracks. Dread filled Jacob’s stomach.

All the children, with Miss Peregrine in front, were standing by the base of the staircases. Miss Avocet was nowhere to be seen. The kids sent frightened looks towards the door.

There, a man stood.

Hugh was all but hanging from his grip. The young boy looked rather groggy and he swayed lightly on his feet. A small rivulet of blood dripped down his temple, but he was held firmly in place by the man.

They knew exactly who he was. So far, they had only heard about him in dreadful stories, never seeing him with their own eyes. But they didn’t need to. His reputation preceded him.

The Wight, Mr Barron, had found them.

He had arrived.

His glossy eyes flittered between everyone in the room, leering. A sharp blade, seemingly protruding right out of his arm from where his hand should be, was pressed tight against Hugh’s throat.

“Ah, Jake!” Mr Barron exclaimed gleefully when the boy entered his vision, “I’m so glad I caught you. How do you feel your little trip to Cairnholm is coming along? Is it anything like your good ol’ grandfather described?”

“…What?” Jacob frowned, dumbstruck. Nervous glances were shot his way. “How do you know my name?”

“Why, Jacob,” the man feigned concern, his facial features contorting oddly. Jacob realised that the man was truly changing shape, and not just expression. In a mere moment a very familiar face stared back at him. “Don’t you recognize me? My, my. We’re going to have to work on these dissociative episodes of yours. Maybe another prescription will do the trick!”

Jacob’s chest welled will anger and he spat, “Dr Golan.”

The man boomed out a laugh. “So, you do remember me! I’m glad. You know, I really am most indebted to you for finding this loop, I never could have done it myself!”

His body suddenly grew cold. He’d been followed. While running from his dad he had forgotten to check his surroundings, walking straight into the loop. He’d led Barron here – to all his friends. Jacob felt faint. One of the twins grabbed his jacket, and he put an arm around their shoulder.

Miss Peregrine stepped towards Mr Barron. Hugh gasped as Mr Barron pressed the blade against his throat. The Bird faltered.

“Now then, as we were discussing earlier, Miss. Time for the cage. But first-” he indicated the children. “They must go.”

A calculating look entered Miss Peregrine’s eyes as she turned to face them all. She levelled Jacob with a single look, silently entreating him to look after the others. He nodded at her, because of course he would, but he felt sick to the core. The Bird didn’t like it much better. A tear slid down her cheek. “Children. For Hugh’s sake I fear we must do as Barron demands. I suggest you all step into the parlour, please.” They did as she asked. As Jacob, along with the others, reluctantly entered the room he saw that they had a small mercy hidden away in the corner – Miss Avocet had completely escaped Barron’s notice!

“It has been my privilege, my dear children. Goodbye.” With that Miss Peregrine closed the door.

There was a rustle of flapping wings and feathers, accompanied by the rattling of cage bars. Then the door opened again, and Hugh was unceremoniously thrown into the room with them. Barron laughed as Hugh sprawled to the floor and tried shakily to sit up. He sent Jacob a last look.

“Why don’t you come with me, Jake? My friend is on the way, and if you help us I can guarantee your safety.” Safety. It was an uncannily compelling argument. “What do you say?”

Jacob’s eyes were steel.

“I’d rather die.”

Barron huffed, locking the door behind him.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Panic broke out amongst the children, and they cried out question after question to Miss Avocet. The younger of the group huddled together and the older ones looked at each other nervously. Fiona sat close to Hugh, dabbing lightly at his headwound with a clean piece of cloth. Hugh smiled weakly at her.

Jacob looked at the harrowed, scared faces all around him, sharing in their dread. A heavy weigh had landed on them all. The days’ last rays of sunlight filtered past one of the windows and a thought dawned on him. He immediately spoke up.

“It’s getting dark – you won’t even be able to see their shadows! We have to stay indoors, it’s our best chance.” Several of the children nodded.

“Quite right.” Miss Avocet agreed. “Now, where does Miss Peregrine keep her weapons?”

Enoch grabbed Jacob and Olive, who followed him into the adjacent room to grab anything they could find. Anything that might work as a makeshift defence against the oncoming invisible evil. By some great stroke of luck someone had left the crossbow and its bolts on a side table, the only fortunate thing to happen to them all evening. Jacob eagerly took it while his two companions hunted through a crate of assorted gardening tools.

In the parlour Miss Avocet directed the other children to latch and bar the windows, barricade the doors and seal everything up tight. Glass shook as the curtains were drawn, and chairs, tables and sofas scraped against the floorboards as they were pressed against the doors. The room was unrecognizable by the time they finished, and darkness descended around them.

Miss Avocet caught the crossbow expertly when Jacob threw it to her upon entering the room. Everyone got handed a weapon of sorts, and they wielded them as well as they could. They all looked up at the Bird.

“A few rules, now, children! Your primary job is to stay safe. Am I clear? Leave the hollow to me.” Miss Avocet urged them as she looked out over their faces.

And then Jacob could feel it – a sick, oppressive feeling permeating the air around them, and the walls felt closer than they ought to. He shivered convulsively. Feeling, rather than seeing, a hand on his shoulder Jacob took a deep breath. He tried hard to control his sudden onslaught fear.

“Are you ok?” came Millard’s voice. He shook his head.

“It’s here. It’s come.”

Enoch’s fingers twitched around the handle of his pitchfork, and he stepped closer to his friends. Emma ripped of her gloves. Miss Avocet stood firm.

“Very well, children. I don’t want any hero-“ But she never got to finish her sentence. A stomach-churning crunch was heard as the wooden panelling suddenly gave way behind her and she was sucked out into the gathering darkness. The children screamed.

Jacob leaped forth and grabbed the crossbow Miss Avocet had dropped. His palms were sweating, and his heart was racing. Just outside the hole in the wall was the hollow. The sight of it made his blood cold, and he scrambled to get back out of its reach. The panelling warped and splintered as the monster languidly tried to squeeze its way into the building.

Jacob gulped.

He gripped the crossbow tighter and lifted it, about to aim, but then he saw movement in the corner of his eye.

Enoch took a protective step in front of the children, brandishing his pitchfork in what he believed was the direction of the hollow. Panic welled up in Jacob's chest, and he bellowed.

"No! Enoch, step back!"

But it was too late.

The hollow reached out it's long limbs and snatched the boy up in one fell swoop, knocking the air out of him. The pitchfork fell uselessly to the floor and Enoch's hands scrambled to get purchase against his invisible captor, struggling to get himself free. The hollow shook him back and forth in the air, before poising itself for its attack. The children screamed and gasped, but didn't know what to do. They couldn't just hit the air wildly, hoping that they might hit their target. That was a sure-fire way to get them all captured. Or killed. But they couldn't just stand there either, and let the monster tear their friend, their brother, apart. They all gripped their makeshift weapons harder and was about to leap forth when Jacob stopped them.

"Everyone stay back!" Jacob shouted.

'You can do this" he assured himself as he dashed to the side, 'you must do this!". He took a deep breath, and with a now clear view of his target he aimed the crossbow and squeezed the trigger. The hollow yowled horribly and immediately dropped Enoch to the floor, writhing and shrieking in agony. The bolt had impaled itself in the hollow’s shoulder, pinning it to the wall, and the monster was not happy. Jacob quickly took Enoch's hand and dragged him up, pulling him out of the room as fast as he could. His heart was beating erratically in his chest. "Everybody out, now!" Nobody argued.

The furious howls of the Hollow echoed after them as Bronwyn ripped open the door and they all ran out the back, egging them on. Running as fast as they could manage towards the woods, the children all disappeared among the shadows of the trees, never once stopping to look back. It wasn’t until they reached the other side of the bog that they at length slowed down. The sky was dark, muttering deeply over their heads, with the threat of raining fire and brimstone down onto them. The silhouettes of war planes flashed brightly amongst the clouds.

Despite the deafening roar of their engines, the group could still hear the anguished crying of the beast all the way from their house when a sudden whining noise split the air. Everybody turned to face in the direction they had come, and they watched in awed shock as the land behind the forest lit up in sickly yellow flames, a blast of heated air levelling anything that stood close enough. Smoke climbed the winds and a deep rumble reverberated in their chests.

They had forgotten about the reset.

The horrific display was unfathomably breath-taking, and all the small group could do was stare. They all realised what had happened. Tears streamed, heavy, down a few of their cheeks, the lamentation of a lost home and a lost way of life. When the loop had failed to reset their previously beautiful house had been condemned to ruin as the bomb was allowed free reign for once. Everything they had known for the past several decades – blown to pieces, pulverized in only a few short moments. It was but a small mercy that the monster had likely perished with their home.

After witnessing something like that, they all needed a moment to just breathe and return to their senses before they could figure out what to do next. They were quiet for a long time, some sinking to their knees in the mud, defeated. Jacob was at a loss. He so dearly wanted to help his friends and would do almost anything to turn back time to before any of this happened, before any of this pain befell them. He cursed the uncaring universe for letting this happen. They didn’t deserve it. None of them did.

A gentle nudge to his shoulder pulled him out of his brooding.

“You might want to let go, now.” Millard’s voice soothed from his side. At first Jacob had no idea what he was referring to, but then something squeezed his hand. ‘Lucky I’m already red from running’ he thought faintly as he looked down and gingerly let go of Enoch’s hand. He realised he’d been holding it in a death-grip all the way from the house. Jacob swallowed. Chancing a covert glance at Enoch’s face he saw that the other boy was equally as red-faced as he himself was. No one else, apart from Millard, seemed to have noticed.

“So, what do we do?” Millard asked out loud, to no one in particular. Everyone gathered around. Enoch placed his hand on Jacob’s arm.

“We need to go after them!” Emma announced forthwith.

“And do what?” Horace argued. “Ask them politely to please give us back our Headmistress? That’s ludicrous.”

“And what do you suggest then? That we just sit here and do nothing?” Emma shrieked.

The group split in two, with both sides insisting that they were right and calling the other side names. They were getting hysterical and went on in much the same fashion for several minutes before Millard lost his patience.

“Stop fighting, you asinine fools!” They grew quiet. Millard huffed. “Of course we must help Miss Peregrine. In any way that we can. After everything she’s done for us we can’t just leave her to her fate! Now, we know where Barron’s taking her. All we need to do is get her out of there!”

The dissenting voices had quieted as he spoke, ashamed of their perceived cowardice. Hugh, who had thankfully been well enough to run away with them, with Fiona having to alter his direction every so often so that he wouldn’t have run into any trees or stepped right into the mire, groaned at the shouting going on around him.

“Millard’s right.” He steadied himself. “But how do we follow them? There are no ferries going at this time of night.”

Olive cleared her throat.

“There’s always…” she sighed, looking at her friends. “We can use my secret hideout.”

Everyone looked at her with confused eyes until she explained that her hideout was no ordinary place, but a ship, wrecked just by the coast. She told them that she could make it sea-worthy again if only she got a bit of help. Eventually it was settled that most of them would work on getting the ship ready for travel while a couple would return to the house to see if there was anything they could salvage. After learning of the location everyone but Jacob, Enoch and Bronwyn set of to the beach. The three of them cautiously made their way back through the forest and to the rubble of their once beautiful haven.

Enoch had claimed he needed to see if his secret, second stash had survived the impact. Bronwyn was adamant that they would need her to carry anything they found. Jacob barely needed to say it, but he still insisted that he accompany them in case the hollow was somehow not dead.

It turned out that it was. That calmed them slightly, but they still scavenged the ruins swiftly, wishing to be anywhere but there. Grabbing what they needed they left for the shore. When they finally reached the stony sand of the beach they were tired and encumbered, but they now had supplies to sustain them for at least a while. The others had made remarkable progress on the ship, and the second they could, they set sail for England.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Jacob and Enoch stood in the Captain’s Cabin, pouring over a map they had salvaged from the smoke and rubble of the Home. None of them were seasoned seafarers, so getting to Blackpool Tower was going to prove a challenge. But they would get there. They had to.

The real problem was that Jacob could only pay half-hearted attention. He knew that this was the priority; plotting their perilous course and hatching a daring plan to save the Headmistress. But his mind continuously flashed him memories of Enoch tossed around by that horrible monster back at the house, filled his head with images of the boy almost being eaten alive in front of his very eyes.

It wasn’t the best recipe for concentration.

Enoch was pouring over the map of various loops, muttering about possible openings, when Jacob gave up. “That was so foolish of you, what you did.” His voice wavered slightly. Enoch stilled. He trained his eyes onto Jacob, waiting to see where he was going with that sudden outburst.

“You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Enoch frowned. “You think I should have stood back?” he challenged.

“Yes! … No. I don’t know, I just-“ Jacob stuttered. He glared at the boy before him and sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. If Enoch had stood back the hollow would have grabbed someone else, and they’d be right back at square one, no better off, he knew. But the sight of Enoch suspended in the air like that had terrified him beyond belief. He thought he might start shaking. “It’s just… you could have died, you know? You can’t do that. I can’t bring you back.”

“I’m still here though, Jake.” He stated it as though he had no intention of ever going anywhere. It sounded like a promise. ‘Still here.’ But in war there are no guarantees. A mirthless laugh escaped Jacob.

“At least if it was the other way around, you could bring me back for a short while.”

“Don’t say that!” Enoch erupted. Jacob blinked, dark eyes staring into his, imploring him. “Don’t you say that. It wouldn’t work, so you can’t die, either. You’re stuck here, with me.”

Stuck with me. Now _that_ was a promise he could get behind.

Jacob felt like a string was pulling at him. It drew him closer and closer to Enoch, and he thought Enoch’s eyes had flickered down towards his lips for only an instant. Anticipation threatened to overwhelm him; he knew he liked Enoch, and had for a few days, but he never thought he might get a chance like this. The boy in front of him came from another time and had lived for longer than Jacob had ever thought possible. And now they were only centimetres apart. They locked eyes. Enoch looked like he wanted this just as badly as Jacob did.

Jacob’s eyes closed, and he could feel the other boy’s breath ghost his face, but as they leaned in the door to the Cabin opened and they jumped apart. Olive looked at them from the doorway. Behind her everyone was waiting.

“How’s the plan coming along?”

Enoch cleared his throat and pointed at the map. “I think I know where the opening to the loop is,” he began, “but as for a plan-“

“I think I have an idea.” Jacob spoke up, thoughts starting to run away with him. They turned to look at him. Enoch’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I have an idea.” He repeated. “But I will need your help. All of you.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Everything happened very quickly after that, once they arrived.

They knew where to find the loop because of Abe’s old map, and once inside they set to work immediately. Jacob was relieved to see only four hollows prowling around the lair as he, Emma and Millard snuck inside the building. The oppressive feeling was back, but he whispered the good news to Emma. She held back a laugh and informed him that they had vastly different ideas about what constituted good news. He insisted that this meant that not all their enemies were there yet, which in turn meant that the experiment had not yet gone ahead.

Emma agreed. This was good news, all things considered.

They set their plan in motion. Emma hollered about dire consequences befalling him if Barron wouldn’t release the ymbrynes, and just as they had hoped he sent the hollows after them. After all, they were just a bunch of kids. How could they possibly handle four hollows?

While Jacob and Emma drew the hollows towards the pier, Millard snuck around at the base, trying to find the chamber where the ymbryne were kept. He stayed close to Barron, hoping he would give the location away. Much to Millard’s delight, he eventually did.

Outside, Jacob and Emma only just reached the pier before the hollows were on them, poised for attack. But as they were getting ready for their minor feast, there erupted a mighty rattling sound, and from the ship emerged an army that would make the Grim Reaper jealous. A few dozen skeletons came running, their bones barely holding in their borrowed organs and fading in and out of attention, but they were all both ready and willing for the coming battle. Enoch followed his men closely after, shouting orders and directions at the top of his lungs. ‘This is his greatest moment yet’ Jacob thought proudly, before helping their army to find their targets.

It took them longer than they would have liked, but in the end all hollows seemed to have gone down. There was no time for a headcount though, and nothing was presently trying to eat them, so they hurried on to step two of the plan. They all prayed that there was still time to save Miss Peregrine. And they rushed to the Tower.

Jacob and Enoch hid behind a few chairs, thinking of flanking Mr Barron when the Wight was made aware of their presence. He tried to lure them out by taunting them. He said all manner of things, mocking their actions and ideals and anything he could think of, until Enoch had had enough. With a cry he charged at Barron, but the man easily knocked him down to the floor. Jacob leaped up and aimed a shot at Barron, but he avoided it and charged for the door. From the floor Enoch breathlessly urged Jacob to hurry after him. So he did. Giving Enoch a quick look to make sure he was fine, he pelted down the corridor after Barron.

Barron had entered the room with the ymbrynes just as Millard set the Birds free, and he screamed in frustration as the birds fled the building. He sliced the air with his blade, anger welling to a boiling point. Unseen, Millard slipped out the door and join the others.

Jacob found Barron tearing away at his own hair, but just as he aimed the crossbow Barron knocked it out of his hands and it skidded to a stop by the door. Despite the futility of the attempt, Jacob tried talking to Barron. He tried telling him that it was over, that he’d lost, but Barron would hear none of it. He was beyond furious, yelling that he wasn’t done yet. He’d simply start over again. Advancing on Jacob, he was about to make the boy intimately acquainted with the business end of his blade when voices sounded outside the room. His eyes glinted dangerously as he got an idea.

When Emma and Enoch opened the door, there were two of Jacob.

Enoch swiftly picked up the discarded crossbow, telling them to stay where they were.

“I’m a better shot than Jake is.” He informed them pointedly. Both of Jacob tried to plead their case, neither making a decisively compelling case. Enoch wasn’t entirely keen on firing, in case he got it wrong. Jacob had the same fear.

They stood locked in that stalemate for a while before Jacob felt a tell-tale, prickling sensation and heard something by one of the windows. Looking covertly in the direction of the noise, he saw what could either spell their salvation, or their doom. He began talking, saying anything, to keep Barron’s attention on himself. He was rewarded with a clueless Barron getting sized up by that last hollow. He watched as its tongues snaked their way around the copy, pulling him in before he had a clue what was going on. As it devoured him Barron reverted to his own shape.

Jacob shouted for Enoch to throw him the crossbow, catching it just in time to loosen a bolt into the hollow’s head. As it collapsed to the ground he could finally breathe again.

It was done. They had won.

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

They all gathered outside the loop entrance.

Things had worked out – their Headmistress had been rescued, their enemy had suffered a crushing defeat, and they were all fine. Mostly.

Plans for the future were being discussed and goals were considered when a large bird suddenly swooped down to them and landed tiredly by their feet. It was a Peregrine Falcon, and the children erupted in loud cheers. They gently lifted her up and looked her over.

Jacob leaned heavily against the nearby wall. They had made it. He was so relieved that he barely knew how to react. With Miss Peregrine back, she could create a new loop, saving the children from a fate too horrible to ponder. They could find a new home. A safer home. Jacob felt exhausted, but he beamed.

Miss Peregrine was exhausted, too. The children fussed and fretted over her, but in the end, they gave her some breathing space. She was back with them. They turned back to Jacob.

Emma strode briskly over to him, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing him tight, “for everything, Jake.” He hugged her back. “You all did really well.” He answered. Releasing her he grinned at his friends. They were tired, they were dirty, and they were hurt. But they were there. All of them smiled back.

One by one they all hugged each other close and clapped shoulders, savouring their victory, and Horace gave a proud nod of his head. And then they all started to filter out, walking through the loop entrance.

It took Jacob a minute to realise that his friends were saying goodbye to him. He stopped.

‘They think I’m going back to my own time.’

He was about to contest the assumption. He’d done some thinking, whenever he could fit it in, during the last few hours and he’d decided to stay with them, help protect them against the other hollows and wights. But he never got the opportunity. Olive gave him a last hug and Millard squeezed his arm and then everyone had filtered through the loop opening. Miss Peregrine squawked and crowed at him before she, too, disappeared, resting on top of Fiona’s birds nest of a head. Everyone was gone.

Everyone but Enoch.

For a long moment they just stood there, looking at each other.

Enoch seemed to hesitate. “Jake, I…” he fell silent again.

‘He thinks I’m leaving.’ The thought had barely entered Jacob’s consciousness when Enoch stepped up, hand taking his in a weak shake. He gave him a dumb look. Enoch was quiet for the longest time, but then he seemed to make a decision. With a last squeeze he let go of Jacob’s hand, and took a step back. His eyes were red.

Jacob hurriedly opened his mouth to reassure him, but Enoch beat him to it.

“I’ll miss you. Remember me.” Then he turned and started for the loop.

Jacob reacted before he had time to think. He took a quick step towards the other, reaching out.

“Enoch, wait!”

In the back of his mind Jacob knew he could simply follow Enoch through the opening and talk to him there, on the other side. But if he could have the privacy that this place currently offered, he would take it. He grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. Enoch turned around, looking ready to argue his point, but Jacob was up in his face before he had the chance to even form the first syllable. He was leaning dangerously close.

Enoch’s breath hitched, but Jacob ignored it. He needed to do this now, or he feared he might never get another opportunity like this. He nervously leaned in the last few centimetres and planted a kiss to the corner of Enoch’s mouth. He lingered there for a moment, letting out a soft breath, before he stepped back just enough to look at the other boy, hoping and wishing and craving that he hadn’t just fucked this up.

“What’d you do that for?” Enoch breathed heavily, his eyes screwed shut. His trembling hands grabbed onto Jacob’s shirt lapels. “That’ll just make it so much harder to walk away.”

Jacob’s heart soared. “Good.” He shot back with conviction. Enoch opened his eyes a crack, sending him a slightly pained look. “Because I don’t want to go. I’ve made up my mind, Enoch. I’m coming with you.”

Confused, half-lidded eyes stared at him. “But what about your life in the future? Your family?”

Jacob closed his eyes and drew in a deliberate breath. He had to make Enoch understand. He placed his hands on top of Enoch’s and spoke.

“I can never go back to my old life, Enoch. I know too much. My parents wouldn’t understand, they would think I’d finally lost it completely and send me back into therapy that I don’t need. And even if I managed to convince them that I was just like them and was allowed to live like any other guy my age, the price of leaving you all behind is too high.” He gave a small smile.

“I can’t live the life they have planned for me. It’s ordinary, it’s unremarkable, and above all, it’s not safe. It never was. The hollows knew where I was. If I go back home to Florida the hollows will eventually get me, and the same thing that happened to grandpa will happen to me.” Enoch’s grip tightened, knuckles turning white.

“I’d have a regular if probably short life, forever having to look over my shoulders. I can’t do that. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ll miss my parents, despite everything. They’re not bad people. They’re just normal. But I can’t go back. If I stay with you, however…” Jacob emphasized, gazing earnestly into Enoch’s eyes. He hoped he understood, that he’d managed to make his point clear. He was rarely this verbose. “If I stay with you, I can make a difference. I won’t have to hide from everyone.”

Enoch barely seemed to breathe. His jaw worked silently for a minute before he settled on a simple enquiry. “I need you to be sure.” And that was it. Jacob’s last chance to turn back and forget about everything that had happened these past few weeks. Go home. Lead a normal life. The thought was preposterous.

Jacob nodded decisively. “I belong with you, Enoch. I’m sure.”

The change that came over Enoch at that sentence was quite remarkable. His whole face lit up, lips splitting into the biggest grin Jacob had ever seen on him, and his eyes glowed brightly. Before Jacob could do much more than entertain a fleeting thought about how handsome Enoch truly was when he smiled, a pair of arms snaked up and cradled his head, and a pair of lips gloriously met his own. Jacob didn’t hesitate for even a second, but returned the kiss in equal fervour, more than happy to give as good as he got. He was elated. Enoch was kissing him! He felt like he could stay like that for ages, for as long as Enoch would let him. His chest was buzzing. All he could do was smile.

Eventually they broke apart, heads close and grinning dumbly up at each other.

“You,” Enoch beamed, his smile threatening to split his face in two, “are mad. Completely barmy.”

“Nah, I’m not really.” Jacob laughed in response. “Just a bit peculiar.”

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 

Jacob didn’t think he had ever felt this happy before, or this complete. For the first time in his life he had a clear purpose, and a place where he felt like he fit in. Enoch laced his fingers with Jacob’s and started pulling him towards the entrance. “Come on then, let’s go.”

Hand in hand and with matching grins they stepped through.

 

.         .         .         .         .         .         .

 


End file.
